


The Cutting Edge

by orphan_account



Category: Agatha Christie's Poirot (TV), Poirot - Agatha Christie, Poirot - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, General Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28238064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Poirot is hoping an interesting case will appear when Hastings drops in to visit. Written as a general fic and in a lighthearted way - playing around with these characters.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	The Cutting Edge

“And may I ask where _Madame_ left her bracelet last?” Poirot asked with resignation into the telephone receiver.

“Then, have you checked the upstairs bathroom?” he continued.

“Very good, _Madame_. I shall send you my bill in the mail.” He all but slammed the phone down.

Fame came at a cost, being an endless worry that stupidity was contagious, of which the wealthy had demonstrated ample amounts. He could well confirm at this point that smarts were _not_ required to maintain a comfortable station in life.

Fortunately, he had developed a checklist of questions for inane cases with the hope that the case would solve itself. It was just a shame that Miss Lemon had the day off, else she would have fielded these requests, with the small fees practically meaning she paid for her own employment. And, at the moment, she seemed to delight in these, fancying herself a detective in the making. Unfortunately for her, while he _was_ genuinely grateful for the defense from these ridiculous cases, it only lowered his estimation of her intelligence. _True_ genius required continual stimulation, a _challenge_.

Poirot sighed as he flicked through the posts in the newspaper. “I am losing my mind, and it is not in the bathroom,” he muttered to himself. The hope that a seemingly innocuous case would turn into an exciting adventure had diminished over the years, and today was no exception.

And, as Poirot had discovered, perhaps the excitement was due to the admiration of those around him whose intellectual faculties were far below his own. “Ah, Hastings, you’ve deserted me again,” Poirot said softly. Plus, verbalising his own thought processes did prove advantageous at times.

There was a loud, urgent rapping at the door. Poirot hastened as fast as he could and threw it open desperately.

“Hastings!” Poirot said, genuine affection and gratitude in his voice.

“Poirot, old chap,” Hastings said warmly. “I happened to be in the neighbourhood. Can’t have you galivanting around having all the fun, now, can we?”

“Indeed,” Poirot said, smiling with a nod. His pride prevented him from admitting his life was becoming anything but. That said, he was determined to enjoy this reprieve.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt you at a crucial moment,” Hastings said, habitually following Poirot inside and into his office.

“Not at all, _mes ami_. I was simply searching for hidden treasure.”

“ _Really?_ ” Hastings asked delightedly. “Getting clues from living suspects becoming too easy for you, eh, old boy?”

“You take me too literally, my friend,” Poirot said with a smirk. “I am merely stating the… _excitement_ of the case is for what I am searching.”

“Oh, I see,” Hastings commented, spirits undaunted. “Well, if I haven’t gotten you in the middle of a riveting and urgent case, why don’t I take you down to that coffee shop at the corner, then? They’ve got some great lemon meringue pie in the window that looked delicious.”

“ _Bon_.” Hercule responded with a smile.

Sitting down, they graciously appreciated the waitress coming towards them. Unfortunately, she didn’t see a penny on the floor and tripped as she set down the plates.

“Oh, dear!” she said, horrified, trying to wipe a spot of cream off Poirot’s suit.

“Please, _madamoiselle_ , you are only working it into the fabric!” Poirot said, exasperated.

“Oh, aren’t you Monsieur Poirot, the famous detective?” a worried woman said, coming up to both of them. The waitress bowed and scampered off, grateful for the distraction.

“ _Oui, Madame_.”

“I don’t want to impose, but-”

Poirot braced himself for the inevitable outpouring of stupidity with his default genial smile.

“-but I’ve lost my favourite pair of scissors,” she said, breathless.

Poirot was glad he’d taken precautions, trying ever so hard to remain polite without encouraging the woman.

“They were gold, you see,” she continued.

Poirot raised a hand, stopping her.

“Madame, _please_ ,” he said disapprovingly. “I am a detective, not a… knickknack finder!”

She looked lost and heartbroken.

Poirot sighed. “I do not know what you expect me to do! _Why_ is it so important?”

“Well, Sir… I beg your pardon, Sir. The only thing is that I was always very careful with them.”

She turned away and let out the faintest sob.

Poirot sighed again. “Wait, Madame… please, do go on with your most… _riveting_ story.” He tried to hide any sarcasm in his voice.

“Oh, thank you, Sir,” she said, sitting down at their table. “Like I said, I was always very careful with them. Only Tilly would have been a witness.”

“And what did Tilly say?”

“I haven’t talked to her, Sir,” the lady said, astonished.

“Then, we talk to Tilly,” Poirot said encouragingly, trying to hide any irritation at the obvious solution while also attempting to make amends for upsetting her. Plus, he may as well take advantage of Hastings’ presence considering he hadn’t decided on a case for the day. 

They’d taken a cab to the lady’s home, a Mrs. Higgins, and she showed them into the drawing room. “Tilly likes staying in this room as much as possible. It’s her favourite, you know.”

“And? Where is she?” Poirot said, looking around expectantly.

As if on cue, a cat on the sideboard meowed.

Poirot glanced over, then back at Mrs. Higgins. After noting a worried look from Hastings, Poirot froze, losing his smile.

“Well, I knew it was a bit unusual, but if there’s anyone who can get information out of a cat, it’s you, Mr. Poirot,” Mrs. Higgins said quite seriously.

“I see,” he said, smiling as an automatic polite reaction, but his eyes displayed a frozen shock.

The cat wandered over and jumped into Poirot’s arms, licking the spot where the cream had fallen.

“Oh, _Tilly_ ,” Mrs. Higgins said, annoyed, grabbing her.

“Well, thank you, Madame,” Poirot said, dusting off some cat hairs. “I fear I cannot dedicate myself to this case today, however, hopefully the day will come soon where I am free for this magnificent expedition.”

He all but ran out. 

~~

“Honestly, Hastings, people expect me to be a mind-reader!” Poirot said, furious as he stormed back into his office.

Hastings chuckled. “I do believe it was _your_ idea to talk to Tilly?”

“I _deduce_ , Hastings. Why is that so hard for people to understand? Talking to cats!” he said, waving his arms around.

“And here I thought you might’ve actually branched out into-” Hastings said, trailing off as Poirot gave him a sharp look. 

“Give me one hundred bracelets!” Poirot said theatrically, exasperated.

“What?” Hastings asked, frowning.

“Never mind,” Poirot answered, irritated. The phone rang, and he practically dove for it. “A threat? Yes, Baron, I shall come immediately.”

“The esteemed Baron von Hearthbridge has use of us, Hastings,” Poirot said, with a skip in his step as he walked out the door.

Shaking his head with a smirk, Hastings followed.

~~

“What goes around comes around,” Poirot said, almost disappointed, reading the piece of paper out loud.

“There, what do you make of that?” the Baron said, pacing and wiping his forehead with a handkerchief.

“Nothing, Monsieur,” Poirot said gravely, folding the paper and looking the Baron square in the eye.

The Baron faltered, but then collected himself. “Nothing? I’m paying you for more than nothing!”

“What I mean, Monsieur Baron, is that you may be admitting to some past untidiness, which I presume is quite important given your current state of, shall we say, agitation. All this note says is that you will receive back, what you have given first,” Poirot explained. 

The Baron cleared his throat. “Hm, well, yes…” He paused. “Alright, I’ll tell you everything. But first, who is this?” he asked, nodding Hastings’ way.

“A c-colleague, Monsieur Baron,” Poirot managed to force out. 

“Very well,” the Baron said, clearing his throat. “It was back when I’d just joined the military. I… took the credit for what should have been a joint operation between myself and another soldier, thus ensuring my promotion. I’m not proud of it.”

“ _Non_ , Monsieur,” Poirot said in agreement.

The Baron walked over to a grand chair. “I’m reminded of that because that was the last thing that he ever said to me – what goes around comes ar-OWWWW!!”

He sprung out and whirled around. “Look! Someone place these between the slats of the chair to try to stab me in the back. Gold scissors, of all things. If I hadn’t leaned to the side of the chair…”

Poirot frowned.

It couldn’t be.

~~

“Only one thing to do, Poirot… arrest the cat,” Hastings joked as they were waiting at the police station.

“She was very careful with her scissors, _mon ami_ ,” Poirot mused. “Perhaps that means that she kept them in the same place, and someone observed them?”

Inspector Japp walked in. It was a high-profile case, and Japp looked like he was on his best behaviour given slightly deferent touches in his demeanour. “Any suspects for this attempt, Poirot?”

Poirot glanced briefly at Hastings, hoping he’d remain silent. Hastings didn’t move to speak, but noted with amusement that Poirot was tense.

“I have come across a case of missing gold scissors,” Poirot answered. “All that is required is for an identification, however, I doubt that this _Madame_ is involved as she was so eager to have it investigated.”

“Well, then!” Japp said, pleased. “That at least gives us some connection. I’ll arrange for the process, if you’d give the details.”

Poirot nodded.

~~

“Monsieur Poirot!” Mrs. Higgins said, surprised, answering her door. “I’ve good news. The police found them.”

“I am aware, Madame,” Poirot said. “But, it is not a matter of where they are, but how they disappeared for which I am here.”

“My, you certainly are thorough in your cases,” she said, chuckling. “Bit of a slow day, perhaps?” She laughed.

Poirot gave a polite nod and smile, but his eye twitched slightly. “If you would please be so kind as to show me and my friend exactly how you were so careful with these precious scissors?”

“Certainly,” she said, showing them in. “It’s quite simple, really. If I wasn’t using them, I’d keep them in my sewing basket, here.”

Poirot bent his head so he was eye level with the basket. “This is quite close to the window, yes? With a view from the road? And do you keep the window ajar often for fresh air?”

“Why, yes, I do!” Mrs. Higgins replied, flustered. “But I didn’t believe anyone would be so dishonest as to _steal_ them. It’s _quite_ a good neighbourhood!” she said defensively.

“Indeed, Madame,” Poirot said soothingly.

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” Mrs. Higgins said as she raced out to the kitchen.

Poirot wandered over to the cat, sitting on the sideboard, offering a hand to sniff. Eyeing his clean lapel, the cat completely ignored him.

Mrs. Higgins returned. “I’ve just rescued my pie!” she said, relieved.

“Ah,” Poirot said, noticing Tilly raising her head and looking out the window. Poirot glanced out again and saw the mailman, who tipped his hat.

“Come, Hastings,” Poirot said, making for the door. “Thank you, Mrs. Higgins. You have been most kind.”

“Excuse me!” Hastings called out to the mailman.

“Yes, Sir?” the man responded, a bit uneasy.

“Ah, a moment, please,” Poirot said, catching up. “Would you happen to know about some gold scissors?”

The mailman almost dropped his bag. “Very well, Sir. I confess I took them. Thought I could get a few quid extra, and that family looks quite comfortable, with that nice cottage.”

“It does not make it right,” Poirot said, sternly. “And where are these scissors now?”

“Well, actually, I lost them. I sat down for a steak and kidney, and they weren’t in my bag afterwards. It was a busy place.”

“You… _lost_ them?” Poirot said, squinting.

“Yes, Sir!” the mailman said, almost having a panic attack. “You have to believe me!”

Looking annoyed at a dead end, Poirot snapped, “You may confess your crime to the police.”

Once the police took him away, Hastings asked “I say, Poirot, how did you know it was the mailman?”

Poirot smiled knowingly. “It is what Tilly told me, _mon ami_.”

“What, that lazy cat?”

“Precisely. Around us, when she is introduced by her mistress, she is lazy, as you say. Unless there is food.” He dusted the area of his lapel where the cream had previously fallen to emphasise his point. “Plus, that kind of cat may be quite skittish if a stranger were to come into the room and may therefore run to where Mrs. Hastings is baking her pies, which is possibly at the same time each day when the mail comes. No, Monsieur mailman had to make sure that he was the cat’s friend, and what better way to bribe than with food? When the mailman came, the cat was all alertness, as if expecting something, and seemed disappointed to see the mailman leave.”

“I see, Poirot! That’s actually quite amazing!” Hastings said with admiration. “But how do we know how these scissors got from the mailman’s bag to the Baron’s chair?”

“That I do not know, _as yet_ ,” Poirot said, enunciating the last words and raising a finger to warn Hastings off any doubts about his ability. “However, it does fit the bill to have a sharp, pointy object that is gold to be on a gold chair, to harm, to scare, to warn, and perhaps to kill fatally if there was a lucky strike. Perhaps it does not require anything other than the same colour to be an object of interest. Let us confer developments with Inspector Japp and if, as my instinct is telling me, he has nothing, then we shall go to the pie shop at the time the mailman usually arrives.”

~~

“I demand to see the inspector at once!” the Baron said, banging his fists on the counter.

“Here, now, what’s this!” Japp rumbled as he stormed out of his office, unhappy with the interruption.

The Baron straightened up, then his mouth fell open. “Richard?”

The mailman was being dragged to the booking department by two flatfoots. He turned and scoffed. He knew the jig was up and spat in the Baron’s direction. Poirot and Hastings arrived just in time to witness the spectacle, and it didn’t take long for him to be incriminated due to the mobility of his job.

After the Baron and Richard had dispersed, Japp looked condescendingly at Poirot. “I believe he was only brought in on robbery, Poirot,” he said with a smirk.

“ _Au contraire_ , as the person would be ex-military, I thought it safer if he cooperated to incarceration on the lesser charge,” Poirot said with flair. “Any further clues would be uncovered by yourself, of course. He already had displayed a degree of envy, which is consistent with the threatening note received by the Baron.”

“Hm, very well,” Japp said, striding back to his office, slightly subdued.

Poirot turned to look at Hastings and they left.

“Another successful case, Poirot,” Hastings said, grinning.

Poirot smiled. “Another successful case, my friend. Hastings, you are my golden goose but instead of eggs, you lay scissors.”

“Er, thank you, Poirot,” Hastings said, amused. “That’s very big of you,” he added reassuringly, showing he hadn’t taken offense.

“Until next time, mon ami,” Poirot said, tipping his hat then walking to a cab.

**Author's Note:**

> Some bits might seem rushed but to be honest, the Baron bit was simply filler. The heart of the story for me was to see Poirot and the cat. :3


End file.
